


Like a River Flows

by alivingfire



Series: tumblr stuff/short fics [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, The X Factor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alivingfire/pseuds/alivingfire
Summary: Harry wonders at his luck, sometimes, that when he looks at Louis and feels his stomach flip, he doesn’t have to push it away, drown it out; he can do something about it, lean over, kiss the joy right off Louis’ lips. He’s still trying to figure out what good deed he did in a past life to earn this. Still a little awestruck that this is the person he’s in love with, the boy he’s in love with.


  And. Wait.


  That’s new.

Harry’s fully awake now, his eyes wide open. His heart’s beating so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t wake Louis, because all Harry can hear is the thunder in his eardrums and feel the pounding against the inside of his chest. Love. He’s in love, he’s in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Can't Help Falling in Love, specifically the [twenty one pilots version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ThQkrXHdh4).

It’s in the fuzzy, deep dark of not-quite dawn when it happens. **  
**

Harry’s not asleep, maybe he woke himself up, maybe he never drifted off, maybe the line between asleep and awake isn’t so much a line as a pit, and he fell in and now he can’t get out. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing deep but his brain whirs on, thinking planning imagining drifting drifting drifting.

Liam’s got a watch on his wrist, a clunky gold one that used to be his dad’s, and its ticking is the only sound in the room besides soft sleepy breaths, Niall’s hitching every once in a while as he twitches in his sleep. It’s funny, Harry thinks, that they moved into this room still nearly strangers, a few weeks at the bungalow and in Spain at the Judge’s House enough to break the tension between them but not enough that they were entirely comfortable with each other. They moved here to the X Factor house and still moved around each other like acquaintances, though suddenly all their destinies were tied up together in one big knot of fate and fame.

_Well_ , Harry amends in his own head. _Maybe that’s not quite true._

Because from day one he and Louis clicked. And not in the usual way, where two people meet and make each other laugh and they find themselves in an easy friendship. No, Harry and Louis clicked like a lighter held to the end of a cigarette; their spark was immediate, indefinable but all-encompassing. Burned a little, sure, but that’s just because all happiness comes with a little pain.

Louis snuffles in his sleep and Harry’s suddenly out of the half-asleep-half-awake pit, his eyelashes fluttering as they open. Louis’ lips are against the back of his neck, his breathing even and tickling the sensitive hair on his nape. His arm is heavy draped over Harry’s waist, his pointer finger curled and nudging against Harry’s stomach.

Harry rearranges his limbs a little to get his circulation flowing again and Louis snuffles once more, tightening his arm in protest. Harry grins into his pillow, so happy, so amazed that this is where he falls asleep every night. He gets to have this, soft moments and quiet moments and still moments with the world’s tiniest thunderstorm, packaged up in dainty limbs and eyes more blue than sunlit water. Harry wonders at his luck, sometimes, that when he looks at Louis and feels his stomach flip, he doesn’t have to push it away, drown it out; he can _do_ something about it, lean over, kiss the joy right off Louis’ lips. He’s still trying to figure out what good deed he did in a past life to earn this. Still a little awestruck that this is the person he’s in love with, the _boy_ he’s in love with.

And. Wait.

That’s new.

Harry’s fully awake now, his eyes wide open. His heart’s beating so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t wake Louis, because all Harry can hear is the thunder in his eardrums and feel the pounding against the inside of his chest. _Love_. He’s in love, he’s in _love_.

He needs to take a walk. He needs to call his mum, really, but it’s inching on towards four in the morning and so he won’t do that. But he needs to do something with the pulsing thud of adrenaline in his veins, because he’s in love, _he’s in love_ , and he just realized it.

Harry worms his way gracelessly out of Louis’ arms and stands, not bothering with grabbing shorts or sweatpants from the mounds of laundry scattered about the room. None of the boys wake up as he hurries to the door, though Louis shifts in his sleep and his hand slides across the mattress like he’s seeking Harry’s warmth, and Harry bolts.

He’s not scared, is the thing. Not worried that Louis won’t reciprocate, not afraid his mum won’t understand or that people will find out. It’s more like there’s suddenly _so much_ inside Harry that he has to move and pace and thump himself on the chest just to keep his heart from collapsing under the weight of everything he feels. He clatters down the stairs and finds himself in the kitchen, flicking the lights on and standing in front of the open refrigerator like it holds the key to elegantly falling in love. Or, maybe it’s elegantly  _realizing_ that he fell in love a long time ago.

But no. No sudden secrets on how to not react to obvious things like an idiot. Just a jug of milk and a few apples, the appliances and cupboards mostly cleared out now that it’s the end of the year, the house destined to be empty in just a few days. Harry shuts the fridge again and just stands there, thinking. Feeling. Sorting through the mess left behind in his emotionally revelatory hurricane.

“Fancied a midnight snack?” says Louis behind him, and Harry squeaks and spins around. He’s sleep-rumpled and squinting in the bright kitchen light, and he’s the most beautiful thing Harry’s ever seen.

The flood of energy in his veins slows. Harry’s in love with this boy, and suddenly it’s okay. He’s processed it and came out clear on the other side. Harry Styles loves Louis Tomlinson. The world spins on, because it was always true.

“No,” Harry answers belatedly. “No, I…”

Louis tilts his head. “You?”

Harry Styles loves Louis Tomlinson. This boy like the sun, bright and golden, captured in the heart of a boy like the moon, shining and silver. They were always meant to be here, always meant to find each other and this place. Always meant to fall.

Harry smiles, and it’s in wonder. “Lou, I love you.”

Louis smiles back, radiant, wonderful. Everything. “About time, isn’t it?” He steps close, takes Harry’s hand. “Love you too, Harry. Think I always have, to be honest. Think I always will.”

They kiss for a long time, because words like that are potent in Harry’s head and do strange things to his heartbeat. Lips brush and bite over and over, quiet and slow but deep.

Louis pulls back, and his cheeks are pink. “C’mon then, back to bed. We’ve got us an X Factor trophy to win tomorrow, can’t spend all night making sappy declarations in the dark.”

Harry grins, winds his fingers with Louis’, and lets himself be pulled back to bed following a stream of chatter, _do you think we’ll actually get a trophy when we win?_ and _is it too mean to dye Liam’s fringe purple when we’re gonna be on national telly_ and _I love you, Hazza, I love you I love you I love you_.

It’s the sleepy time between deepest night and dawn and Harry’s exhausted now, his brain quiet like it’s pieced together a mystery. He falls into bed and is asleep within seconds, the sounds of ticking from Liam’s watch and Louis’ even breaths against his next pulling him under.


End file.
